


I Remember Your Touch As If It Were Yesterday

by GothicPrincessWitch



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Hand Jobs, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Pining, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-05
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2019-04-18 20:12:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14220882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GothicPrincessWitch/pseuds/GothicPrincessWitch
Summary: One year after their ill-fated passionate night together, Fenris can’t stop thinking about Hawke. He touches himself as he wishes Hawke were intimately with him once more.





	I Remember Your Touch As If It Were Yesterday

**Author's Note:**

> Special thank you to The-Tevinter-Biscuit for inspiring this work, and huge thank you to theoxfordcommando for being the best beta ever! 
> 
> As with anything involving Fenris reclaiming his sexuality, there are references to his past in this, so please take care.

They part ways in the Chantry Courtyard, Fenris to go up the stairs to the Hightown estates district and his own dilapidated mansion, and Hawke to head to his own much better kept manor.

“Thanks for coming with me today,” says Hawke with a disarming grin.

“Anytime,” says Fenris. He savors the closeness between them and wishes he could think of an excuse to ask Hawke to come to the mansion with him, but nothing comes to mind.

There’s a stretch of awkward silence between them, both of them having everything to say and nothing to say at the same time, warm, whiskey-colored eyes locked onto green. Eventually Hawke breaks the silence with a nonchalant shrug and a casual, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Fen.”

“Until tomorrow, then,” Fenris murmurs.

With a polite incline of his head, he turns and starts up the marble staircase, but about halfway he pauses and looks back at Hawke, only to find Hawke staring at him with so much yearning, golden-brown eyes turned to dark pools of desire. Hawke reddens when Fenris catches him watching, and with a sheepish grin, Hawke gives a little wave before walking away.

Fenris can’t get Hawke’s expression, the intensity of desire written upon that handsome face, out of his mind the rest of the way home. His face burns, and this heat moves southward, as he ponders what Hawke might have done if he’d acted upon that desire.

He imagines Hawke, with that perfectly wonderful smile lighting up his face, wrapping an arm around Fenris’s waist to guide Fenris home just a little bit faster, then once inside the mansion’s atrium, using that arm to pull Fenris closer to him. Their bodies are pressed together and separated only by layers of armor. With Hawke’s other hand, he’d crook a finger under Fenris’s chin in order to lift Fenris’s head to the perfect angle for the taller Hawke to kiss him.

Fenris can practically taste the roughness of Hawke’s lips, of his tongue plundering Fenris’s mouth, and a soft moan involuntarily escapes him. Suddenly his armor and leathers are too tight, too constricting, and Fenris begins unbuckling, unfastening. As he makes his way toward his bedroom, he discards each piece of armor, clothing, and weaponry onto the floor, littering a trail toward his bed.

His thoughts have now turned to the manner in which Hawke stripped him bare of all of his layers of armor — both literally and metaphorically — on that one passionate night last year. For every fresh inch of skin revealed, Hawke lavished attention upon Fenris with lips, tongue, and fingers.

Until that night, Fenris had never known what it felt like to be loved. He’d been _desired_ , yes, the way a noble covets a rival’s more elaborate ornament, but never _loved_. Yet Hawke loved him and made him feel truly, completely loved.

Every touch, every caress set Fenris’s skin aflame. Every kiss stoked the fires burning within his body and soul. Garrett Hawke was like the sun: warm, burning, brilliant, drawing Fenris inexorably to him; and Fenris opened himself up to Hawke like flower blossoms open their petals to the sunlight.

Fenris essentially collapses naked onto his bed and imagines Hawke lying beside him, those strong, powerful hands tenderly taking ahold of Fenris and caressing him. Hawke’s hands, he recalls, are much larger than Fenris’s own and fit easily around Fenris’s cock, being careful of the sensitive lyrium brands spiraling almost to the tip.

The markings are a sharp reminder of the past, how his body didn’t belong to him but was someone else’s property, and he certainly was never permitted to lay hands on himself like this.

But now Fenris belongs to himself. His body and sexuality are _his_ and his alone. As much as he aches for Hawke to be beside him, around him, inside him, there is a kind of power in taking control of this with his own two hands.

The markings being to glow as Fenris quickens his strokes. His eyes slip close when he lets himself slide back into his fantasy of Hawke, wrapping one big hand around Fenris’s, guiding deft strokes over Fenris’s cock, as Hawke guides himself into Fenris, and the feel of Hawke within him is almost indescribable.

Fenris has been broken for so long, but with Hawke he feels some of the missing pieces of himself being filled in anew, and it’s almost like he’s whole again.

Fenris’s thumb brushes over the head of his cock and becomes wet from the precum dribbling out. Another moan escapes him, and with it comes the realization he doesn’t have to be kept silent during this, so he lets himself moan more loudly. Of course the word on his lips is _“Hawke”_ as he gets closer. He imagines Hawke’s searing kisses at the nape of his neck, and he cries aloud as he pictures the dark pools of lust in Hawke’s eyes deepening with pleasure as Hawke climaxes within him.

“Oh, Garrett,” Fenris whispers as he cums into his hands, burying his face into his pillow, pretending he’s pressing his face into Hawke’s sweat-glistening skin. The markings blaze even more brightly, a ripple of energy bursting forth. As the aftershocks run through him, Fenris lies there, boneless and relaxed, as he imagines melting into Hawke’s arms.

But when the pleasure fades, Fenris is left cold and alone once more, wishing he were unbroken enough for Hawke to truly be with him.


End file.
